That one time Wade didn't feel like talking Spideypool
by ThanksIllPass
Summary: Prompt: Peter receives a violent blow on a shoulder during a battle; at home Wade spreads on him some ointment. / I tried.


Prompt: Peter receives a violent blow on a shoulder during a battle; at home Wade spreads on him some ointment.

* * *

They stumbled into the apartment with Peter's good arm draped over Wade's shoulders and Wade holding him up by the waist. Peter hadn't had his ass kicked that badly in a long time. They were both covered in blood and sewer-water They didn't speak, which was understandable with Peter capable only of grunting in pain at the moment, but for Wade it was unusual. Normally, he wouldn't shut up, trying to distract Peter, or himself, from thinking about the situation. It made Peter even more uncomfortable than his busted shoulder.

"Are you okay, Wade?" he finally asked.

Wade only chuckled darkly and helped him sit in a kitchen chair. He carefully peeled off Peter's mask and dropped it in the sink. Peter's eyes followed him until he disappeared in the bathroom. Peter could hear Wade going through the cabinet looking for a first aid kit, washing his hands and muttering angrily to himself. When he came back with it, he wasn't wearing his mask, and Peter could see how distressed he was.

"How are we going to take this off you?" Wade asked, putting the kit on the table. "Should I cut it?"

Peter scowled, because he didn't appreciate being babied; especially by a baby such as Wade. He peeled the costume off without a word and regretted it immediately, hissing in pain. Wade winced at that, but he quickly brought a patronizing smirk on his face. Peter was confused, to say the least.

"Don't pout _now_, baby boy… It's your own fault, you know."

The falter in Wade's voice was so small Peter almost missed it. But it was there, and Peter realized why Wade behaved so out of character. He blamed himself for what happened tonight.

"You think this is your fault? Because if you are, you can stop now. I'm Spider-Man. These things happen. Whether you're there to see it or not."

It came out harsher than Peter intended, but his shoulder was killing him, he felt gross, and he just wanted to sleep. Wade didn't say anything to that. He just sat on a stool in front of Peter and started to clean the wound. And did that anger Peter even more.

"Wade, what the hell. Why are you so quiet? You're not supposed to be quiet. You're supposed to tell me I'm a loser and I should be grateful you were there to rescue me from a gruesome fate in a sewer. This is what you do. So why the hell- AH! You asshole, that _hurts_!

Wade's lip quirked up slightly, but he eased the pressure. He reached for the disinfectant and started carefully applying it around the wound. It never stopped amazing Peter how gentle Wade could be. Not the first character trait that comes to mind when you think about Deadpool. And yet, Peter got to experience that gentleness far more often than anything else. Still, in this particular situation, he didn't like the fact that it went with the unsettling guilt-charged silence. Peter craved familiarity.

"Put a finger in there and wriggle, why don't you." he muttered.

"Now, Petey, is it really the best time for sex?"

"Hardy har har, Wade. Really, this is beneath even you."

"It really isn't."

"Yeah, I know…"

Peter smiled. That was what he needed; bad jokes and innuendos. This was familiar. This meant everything was alright. He just wished it really was. He sighed dramatically then, and Wade lifted his eyes and winked, which made Peter chuckle.

"You're horrible. Please babble. About anything. Talk about weather. About Bea Arthur. Tacos. Boxes. Just. Please? Talk? This isn't your fault. You have to know this, Wade."

Wade finished taping Peter's shoulder, brushed his lips against it, and stood up. Peter greeted his teeth and grabbed Wade's wrist.

"Wade, I'm serious. It's not your fault. I promise. If anything, you helped. I could have ended up a lot worse if it weren't for you. Alright? So thank you. For everything."

Peter's eyes never left Wade's face and he could see all the emotions that went across it when he was talking. It was times like this when Peter realized how little he actually knew about Wade; about his fears and insecurities, so well-hidden most of the time. He knew Wade cared about him, but apparently, he had now idea how much. This wasn't new, this thing between them, but they both still had a lot to learn about each other. Peter slid his fingers off Wade's wrist and slipped them between Wade's own. He tugged lightly and Wade sat back down.

"Do you trust me?" Peter asked softly.

"You know I do, baby boy." Wade whispered, holding Peter's gaze.

"So trust me when I say, you have absolutely nothing to blame yourself for. I know you think you should protect me, help me, and I appreciate it, but you not always can. I'm Spider-Man. And things like this _will_ happen. Worse things will happen. I will most probably die on a night like this one. But I will never _ever_ blame you. Do you understand that? You are not responsible for anything that happens to me. Except orgasms."

Wade laughed at that and Peter couldn't suppress a grin that threatened split his face in two. Wade squeezed Peter's hand and lifted it to his lips. He didn't kiss it, he just laughed around it. Peter couldn't have asked for more.

"Are _you_ alright?" Peter asked, when Wade's laughter started dying out.

"Don't worry about it, I heal."

"I know that, Wade. But it still hurts, doesn't it?"

Peter couldn't keep the sadness out of his voice. He couldn't help it. He hated how Wade always ignored pain, how indifferent to it he was. And most of all, Peter hated the way Wade looked at him every time Peter expressed concern; like he couldn't believe anyone could ever worry about him. It hurt Peter a lot, but what hurt even more was that he seemed to be unable to do anything about it. No matter how many times it happened, Wade's utter surprise never changed. But it would never stop Peter from trying. Somehow, Wade made him want to try. And Peter was okay with that.

"Come on," Peter sighed. "Let's get you at least cleaned up. You're not getting anywhere near my bed looking and smelling like that."

It took Wade a moment, but the smug grin Peter loved so much finally spread across his face.

"Oh? You sure you're up for a night filled with acrobatic sex?"

"I heal too. Just in time for some acrobatic _morning_ sex."

"I have to wait til morning? Thought my awesome services were worth more than-"

The rest of Wade's taunt was drowned in a long loud yawn that brought tears to the corners of his eyes.

"Aw, youw adowabwe…" Peter teased.

Something malicious flickered in Wade's eyes, and Peter knew him well enough to know he should run. And he did. What he absolutely did not do was squeal. Or giggle.


End file.
